


forget-me-nots

by PlayerTwoHeere



Series: strangers - trash boat [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Awkward Michael, Flowers, Love, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, No SQUIP, Oh i didnt think id make yall cry, actress!Christine, fluff-ish, im sorry, kinda clueless christine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 09:03:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13971753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayerTwoHeere/pseuds/PlayerTwoHeere
Summary: “Let’s go see him, then.”Michael looked down at her, obviously unaccustomed to the ball of energy that was Christine Canigula. “That’s not a good ide-“ But Christine was already bouncing away.“It’s either you take me to see this boy of yours or you’re paying for every flower you’ve taken from me.” Christine said, her voice light.-Every day, Christine sees Michael pick flowers from her garden and wonders where he’s taking them.





	forget-me-nots

Christine blew her hair out of her face, looking at the taller boy. She folded her arms, not seeming to care that her short stature and sunflower yellow dress made her seem a lot less intimidating. “Back again, are we?” She said. She channeled the same commanding attitude from when she played Blanche DuBois in high school as she glared.

The boy whirled around, standing up. He was very flustered, trying to hide the flower he had obviously just picked behind his back. “I, um…” 

Christine saw his blush, and felt her heart melt a little. “What’s your name?” She asked, leaning her arms on her porch railings. Her voice still had an edge to it, but you could tell she was breaking character. 

“Um, Michael. Michael Mell.” The boy ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up more than it already was. “Sorry about, um, the flowers…” He trailed off, looking at the single rose in his hand. The dark red flower matched the hoodie he was wearing. Christine had gotten to know that hoodie very well. Every week, she saw it out of the corner of her eye as the teen boy picked one flower or another from her front yard.

This had been going on for a while now. It had started out as every day, rain or shine, the same figure walking past. Normally, he wore the hoodie, Christine had noticed, the one covered in various patches. 

In her head, Christine had made up a story for the boy. He was going to visit his girlfriend, probably, giving her a flower every day. His girlfriend would be overjoyed, and in her dream story, they were happy. Maybe she had given him the hoodie, or some of the patches. 

She realized she was staring at the boy- Michael, did he say? She blinked, brushing her hair behind her ear, a little embarrassed. “No, it’s alright. Sorry for zoning out. ADD, you know?” She grinned at Michael, her tough, commanding facade dropping. 

Michael looked down at the girl, still looking flustered. He shoved his hand in his hoodie pocket, looking away. “You aren’t going to make me, like, pay for the flowers or anything?” 

Christine thought for a moment. “No, I’m not.” The boy looked at her quickly in surprise. He opened his mouth- presumably to thank her- but Christine held up a hand.

“But I do need to make sure that the girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft.” She said with a grin. The boy’s face, although tan, looked to be a little red.

There was silence between the two for a little, and Christine worried she’d crossed a line. She went to apologize but finally Michael spoke.

“Boy.”

Christine blinked. That was not at all what she expected to hear. “What?” She looked at the taller boy, tilting her head. 

Michael cleared his throat. “It’s, um, actually a boy.” He looked down at the flower in his hand. “And he’s definitely pretty enough.” 

Christine was a little taken aback, but she didn’t stay shocked for long. After all, most, if not all, of her friends were queer in some form or another. She herself was ace, but that was besides the point. “Cute!” She said. She stood up, skipping her way down the stairs and through her garden. “Let’s go see him, then.”

Michael looked down at her, obviously unaccustomed to the ball of energy that was Christine Canigula. “That’s not a good ide-“ But Christine was already bouncing away. 

“It’s either you take me to see this boy of yours or you’re paying for every flower you’ve taken from me.” Christine said, her voice light. Soon Michael fell in next to her, each of his steps equaling at least two of hers. “So, what’s this boy’s name? What’s he like? What’s his favourite kind of flower? Are you two in love?” She asked in a stream of questions. Her idea was slowly changing in her head, adapting to fit this new piece of information.

Michael sighed, seeming to resign himself to Christine. “His… his name w- is Jeremy.” Christine thought she heard tears in his voice, but brushed it away. “And he’s the most wonderful boy I’ve ever met.” 

Christine’s smile widened. Just because she didn’t experience love didn’t mean she hated hearing about other people’s love- quite the opposite, actually. She was a sucker for a good romantic story. 

Michael went on, staring at his shoes. “We… he’s my boyfriend. I love him, a lot. And he loved- loves me. He loves me.” He rolled the flower between his fingers. “I never asked him what his favourite flower was.” He said quietly. 

Christine shrugged. “Well, we’ll just have to ask him today then. I’ll make sure to plant some.” She grinned up at the taller boy. He really was very tall, almost towering over Christine. “Is he tall, like you?”

Michael seemed to jerk out of some memory, looking away. “Yeah. He was a little shorter than me, though.” A small smile started on his face, but Christine could see a twinge of something there- sadness? Regret? She couldn’t tell with emotions, her own were all over the board. 

“That’s cute. So what do you two have in common? Does he like Pacman, too?” Christine asked, pulling her jean jacket a little tighter against her. Michael stopped, looking at the girl.

“How did you-“ Christine pointed at Michael’s forearm. Under the many bracelets, you could see parts of a tattoo- Pacman, eating pellets. Michael pulled his arm way quickly. “Oh. Yeah, we both liked Pacman. He had a matching tattoo, on his right arm.” A small smile twitched at the boy’s lips. “We loved old games like that. We got together all the time and played through Apocalypse of the Damned so many times. We’ve been playing since we were twelve, and he…” He trailed off, sighing. 

Christine looked up at the sky as Michael continued. “He’s my player two. Every time we play he gets this little grin on his face and he gets all excited. He’s adorable. Even when he’s flailing around on rollerblades or anxious about crowds or acting on stage. He’s such a dork.”

“He’s an actor? I work at the local theater, maybe he could come see our show. Its in a few weeks.” Christine said, hopefully. They could always use more actors. “He could try out for our next one, too.” 

Michael seemed to swallow. “Maybe, yeah.” 

He kept talking as they walked slowly, telling Christine stories of the two of them- how they first met, their first date, their first kiss. Christine could tell that this boy meant the world to him. After a while, Michael sighed. “I love him and miss him….” Michael looked over at the small girl, who was kicking at a pebble at her feet. “Why am I telling this to you? I don’t even know your name.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m Christine, Christine Canigula.” She held out a hand for Michael to shake. Michael just stared at her before shaking his head. He gave her a small grin, taking her hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Christine.” He quickly dropped her hand, sliding his into his pocket. “Thanks for the chat, but you should really go home. Jeremy, ah, doesn’t like strangers.” It was an obvious lie, and Christine knew she should respect his privacy, but she tilted her head.

“I just want to see this boy. I don’t have to talk to him.” She said. After hearing the raw emotion in his voice, she had to know what this boy looked like. Had to see what could make someone’s heart flutter like she could tell Michael’s was. 

“You really want to see him?” Michael said, his voice falling flat. Christine didn’t exactly understand why. “Fine. But only because I don’t have the money to pay you back.” 

Michael looked at Christine. “If you turn around… that’s where he is right now.” He said, his face looking like he was about to cry. 

Christine turned around. “I didn’t know he lived that cl-“ She was standing in the opening of a dark wrought iron fence, looking at something that definitely wasn’t a house. Michael walked past her, heading up the pathway. Christine could only follow numbly. 

“Michael, this is a-“ Her voice caught in her throat, not letting her say the next words. Michael had stopped, looking at the name carved into the rock.

“A cemetery. Yeah.” His words were cold, but he knelt on the ground, putting the rose on the gravestone. Christine, for once, was totally, utterly speechless. 

Michael just sat there, staring at the grey stone in front of him. Christine sat next to him, reaching out to trace the words etched into the stone. 

Here Lies  
Jeremiah Heere  
Nov. 5 1998 - Dec. 20 2017  
Until We Meet Again

Christine felt a lump in her throat for this boy she didn’t even know. He was only 19, at the oldest. Too young to be buried in a cemetery. She took a deep breath. “How did he…” She let her hand fall to the ground again, not looking up at Michael. The silence stretched on, and Christine worried she’d said too much. “You don’t have to say.”

Michael reached up, trying to brush away tears without Christine noticing. “Car crash. Drunk driver. Jeremy was coming home to, to do our holiday gift exchange. He got a Chanukkah gift, I got a Christmas one. He was in his car and he skidded a little on the ice, and the other guy didn’t see him coming and…” Michael’s eyes closed tightly and he hung his head. He took a deep breath. “He was already gone by the time the paramedics got there.” 

Christine looked at this boy, the one that had stolen flowers from her garden every day, just to bring them to his boyfriend’s grave. He was so broken. He was left behind, the only one left. She looked back at the gravestone and cleared her throat. “Hey, Jeremy.” She said quietly. She wasn’t completely sure what she was doing. “I’m Christine. Nice to meet you.” She could feel Michael’s eyes on her.

She paused as if waiting for a response. “Michael’s told me a lot about you.” Her voice was a little choked. Her emotions were getting the better of her again. “You know…” She took a breath. “He really loves you. Even if he doesn’t know your favourite kind of flower.” She said with a small laugh. She looked over at Michael quickly. 

“You said he liked blue, right?” Her mind raced, she had an idea. She thought back to their walk- thank her ADD and hyper-awareness of her surroundings. She jumped up. “I’ll be right back.” 

Christine left Michael stuttering behind her as she raced to the front of the cemetery. She grabbed the tiny flowers she had noticed, going back to Michael, panting. After catching her breath, she knelt down again. Next to the rose, she lay the small bouquet. “They’re forget-me-nots.” She said quietly.

Michael didn’t look up, just staring at the flowers. “I know.” He said quietly. “They’re…” Now Christine noticed how shaky his voice was, like he was seconds away from tears. “They look like his eyes. They’re beautiful.” 

Christine stood, putting her hand gently on Michael’s shoulder. “I bet he was too.” She gave a smile to the gravestone, like she was saying goodbye to an old friend. Then she turned around and started walking back to her house, leaving Michael to mourn alone. She wiped away tears, thinking over what had happened. 

She didn’t see Michael again, except in passing. She wanted to call out to him, but he had his headphones on, blocking her out. She remained silent. 

Days passed, and she was too busy with her show to be home much. Even on weekends, rehearsal was so late that she barely had time to sleep. It all passed in a blur, and it was her show. 

The lead male actor knocked on the door to her dressing room. “Hey, Christine? We’ve got something for you.” She looked up, opening her door. 

“What is it?” She asked, tilting her head. Then she saw what the man was carrying, and she felt a twinge in her heart. It was a bouquet of flowers with a note attached. She thanked the messenger and took the flowers into her dressing room, laying them on her table. She flipped open the note. It was short, but sweet.

Break a leg.  
-M.M. and J.H.

Christine smiled a little, looking at the bouquet. The bright yellow sunflowers drew her eyes first, and she remembered the bright skirt of her sundress on that day. The dark red rose, matching the memory of the hoodie, the flower that had started it all. And scattered all around it was the tiny, pale blue blossoms of forget-me-nots.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m sorry for making y’all cry i didn’t think it was that good  
> but thank you for reading, i hoped you enjoyed it!!
> 
> if you need some fluff to cheer you up, you should check out my other fluff fics!
> 
> if you want more angst, you should either read my collab fic with my friend PlayerOneMell, In His Eyes, or any of her stuff.


End file.
